


The Chosen

by hikarinaki



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimitri has a bad time, F/M, Mommy Issues, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25273555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikarinaki/pseuds/hikarinaki
Summary: Dimitri and Rhea were two people drawn together by the delicate dance of their aligning goals. But in the frigid halls of Castle Fhirdiad, Dimitri seeks from her a deeper warmth. One that she is only willing to give so long as it too services her own goals.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Rhea
Kudos: 35





	The Chosen

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so yeah, this is a real bad time. Don't read it if you aren't feeling up to just a real bummer, since I know that the state of the world can affect one's tolerance for downer fiction. It is actually abusive and toxic so please stay safe while reading!

The halls of Castle Fhirdiad had never been much of a cheerful place. Dimitri can not remember a time when the warmth ever extended past the flickering torches, or permeated deeper than their thick fur coats. The warmth was always surface-level, functional, only for survival. Never did Dimitri know a home where affection could bring someone a comfort more than just warding off the winter chill.

Which isn’t to say that Dimitri’s childhood was devoid of love, from what he was told, his mother loved him very much. He was told every time he asked after his mother’s memory. Told over and over again: “Above all, your mother loved you very much,” but in the years after her passing, as his own memories of her faded into nothing, that was little more than a cold comfort. His mother was dead, and had been for years. She had never been there to hold him, nor to console him. 

Dimitri instead had the distant love of his father. Lambert was by no means a cruel man, but he was practical, pragmatic. He was the definition of an ideal Faerghan man. That image did not include holding his son, nor comforting him from his nightmares. Lambert’s love consisted of mountain training in the dead of winter, lance practice in the mornings, and endless piles of reading at night.

At times, Dimitri wondered if the only affectionate touch he would ever remember would be that night he and Edelgard Danced together, so clumsily...so foolishly. Those distant memories however, no longer can hold no place in his heart. His boyhood naïveté is now extinguished, all that remains, is one singular burning desire. 

These castle halls that had been once so cold and bitter to the young prince, now contained the pure wash of divine starlight. After the Monastery had fallen, Lady Rhea had been brought here for safe harbour, this palace then becoming the new seat of the Seiros Church. Rhea had immediately crowned him King, as was his birthright, his duty, and a necessity in the face of the growing flames of war.

But beyond that now, Dimitri has become more and more confronted with the fact that Rhea, despite her impressive power and her radiance, she too, is indeed a living person. She requires not only a new seat for her order, but also a place to rest and lodgings.

And to this end, Rhea has taken up residence in what had once been the queen-consort’s suite. Dimitri had allowed her to pick her accommodations. Surely, she could not have known? Regardless, who was Dimitri to try and stop her? He had no reason to. There was no reason other than the cacophony of conflicting feelings the welled up within him whenever he stood before her door.

On this night, there is no need for a public and official audience, Dimitri has returned quietly in the dead of the night from a personal scouting mission. His own advisors never approved of such activities, but Rhea, for her part, seemed to have a habit of forgiving his more unconventional methods. And so, he is here, ostensibly to give his report, but with the way his hands shake and his shoulders tremble under his fur mantle, one might assume he was nervously making a midnight call upon a lover.

Dimitri then forces his hand to knock sharply on the door three times. 

“Come in,” Rhea’s serene voice floats out, and Dimitri is drawn in without hesitation. He allows himself in and looks around the receiving room. She is not there, but he caches glimpse of the veranda door ajar.

Seeing her framed there in the moonlight, whatever foolish thoughts Dimitri had were instantly melted away. The ghost of his distant mother, the shadowy tendrils of his step-mother, why would he dwell on those when she was right there before his very eyes. Rhea, the Archbishop, a magnanimous figure, and perhaps the only woman to give him anything close to the tender affection he so desperately craves. It had never been more than a glance, or a comforting hand on his shoulder, but that alone had been enough.

He moves forward, and approaches with his head bowed in deference. “Your Holiness,” he says, keeping his head down even as she turns to face him. 

“Dimitri,” her voice is gentle and he forces himself to meet her eyes. “I have said this before, there is no need to refer to me with such titles when it is just us here,”

“Of course, my apologies—Rhea,” he gulps, a bashful look appearing on his face.

Rhea appears pleased by this and gives him a warm smile.

“Unfortunately...” Dimitri begins. “I have a report that will not please you to hear.”

“None of that, not now,” Rhea says, her tone becoming suddenly as hard as a blade. “I have been awaiting you, because I have made a decision, to honour your achievements as the rightful King of Faerghus.”

“I beg your pardon...?” Dimitri by no means feels that he has done anything to deserve accolades nor any sort of reward. To start with...the heretic, that wretched woman still lived...

“Indeed, your unwavering dedication to me and the teachings of Seiros have proven yourself worthy of a reward for you efforts,” she says, turning to Dimitri and placing one hand on his cheek.

Something about the way that she says those words makes a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck. Certainly, ever since having first laid his eyes upon the Archbishop as a boy, her radiant beauty was not lost on him. Whatever fleeting shameful thoughts he had held in his heart back then...he would be lying if those flames were not suddenly fanned again whenever he glimpsed her in this pure white chemise. And now, with her hand on his skin, their bodies so close together, a flash of impossible thoughts begin to crowd his mind.

“Lady Rhea...” Dimitri says, swallowing thickly as her impossibly soft hand against his face feels like a searing brand. “I am afraid that I do not...”

Rhea’s smile is serene, but no less dangerous, no less terrifying. “Dimitri, you need not be so nervous with me,”

“On the contrary—”

“Come with me, Dimitri,” she says, her voice positively angelic in it’s soft tones. Dimitri feels a shudder coarse through his whole body and he all but had no choice but to follow her.

She guides him with her slender hand clamped around his wrist. He stumbles after her until she sits down upon her bed. Dimitri stands there, fully entranced, his breathing starting to come heavier and faster by the moment.

“The time has come, Dimitri, that I bestow upon you the sacred honor that you alone truly deserve,” she smiles, her lips parting enough to show her pure white teeth, glinting and shockingly pointed. “Now, kneel before me.”

Dimitri nods and all but collapses to his knees. His eyes are cast down but that does not keep his face from heating up and his shoulders from beginning to tremble.

Rhea reaches out both hands to cup his face, forcing him to look up at her. Dimitri does so, meeting her soft green gaze, and that smile, that smile...so warm, so full of that grace and forgiveness. Everything that he clamours for but always found so far out of reach. But in this moment he is knelt before her, but not as as he did when she crowned him king. Now, this feeling is much different, something about it feels...wrong. Or that is should feel wrong. He should feel ashamed, disgusted with himself that he was still so close to her, his eyes shamelessly wandering the contours of her body. But yet—

“I am as always, your humble servant. As I am a king devoted to serving my people, I also serve the goddess. And that means also that I—bend, to your will lady Rhea.”

“This I know, Dimitri. And I have known ever since you fled the grasp of that she-witch and lent your spear to me and my holy war.” Something like a fire sparks up in her eyes, something terrifying and beyond Dimitri that also feels he cannot tear his eyes away from.

“I am sure that you know of the legend, of Saint Seiros and Emperor Wilhelm the first?”

Dimitri’s expression sours slightly at that mention. “Indeed, I do.”

“And I need not tell you how that chosen bloodline has sadly strayed from the goddess’ light,” Rhea continues.

Dimitri nods.

“The time has come, for the Goddess’ will to choose a new royal line,” her smile now borders on a sneer as she removes one hand to take Dimitri’s wrist again. Her grip is firm, almost painful even to someone as terrifyingly strong as Dimitri. She takes his hand and places it upon her stomach. “I bear a Major crest of Seiros, by the grace of the Goddess,” she says. “And as Seiros did before me, I now have secured my chosen.”

Rhea pauses, perhaps waiting for Dimitri to catch on to her implications. But Dimitri instead finds himself consumed with the sheer sensation of his hand on her skin. The softness of her abdomen, so clearly felt through the sheer fabric of her dress. “Your…chosen?” He finally asks, looking back up to meet her eyes.

“Indeed,” Rhea smiles. “She blessed the Hresvelg line with this holy crest that they have now squandered,” she says with a snarl. “But I know…that you will not fail me, nor fail the goddess.”

“What exactly…do you require of me to do?” He asks. While he has a suspicion, the thought is far too preposterous to entertain, surely.

“Oh Dimitri…” She says gently while caressing his cheek. “Your earnest purity further assures that I have chosen well,” she then moves his hand from her stomach and pushes it between her legs. 

Rhea’s legs then part, and Dimitri’s palm is pressed flush against her mound. Dimitri does not register what is happening at first, even as his cheeks flush red, and he feels a sensation of moisture pooling through the fabric.

“The royal line of Faerghus shall be continued on through me,” Rhea whispers, something almost desperate or frenzied starting to creep into her voice.

It finally sinks into place in Dimitri’s head, and a white hot feeling of shock crashes through his body. It is unmistakable now what she is asking—no, demanding for him to do. The young King’s head is absolutely spinning. Yes, he always knew that one day he would have to take a queen, or at the very least a consort. He would have to pass down the Blaiddyd crest somehow...But what would this mean? Was the Blaiddyd crest to be extinguished and replaced with Seiros? 

Dimitri did not understand, but in truth he did not want to. At that moment, all he yearned for was that warmth, this building heat beneath his palm. He wanted it, he wanted to know this sacred intimacy that he had been for so long denied. 

Rhea’s hands move to his shoulders, removing the heavy fur mantle and letting it fall to the floor. Dimitri was somehow not wearing any sort of armor, but instead a quilted tunic. “I can tell that you are quite nervous. It must be that you have not yet embraced your manhood in this way,” Rhea says, her hands starting to loosen he ties of his tunic and remove the myriad leather belts.

“That is correct.”

“As is only proper for a prince. It would not do well for you to carelessly sow your royal seed,” she says, while she almost sounds bored as she does so.

Dimitri has yet to find the strength to do anything in response to her, which only causes his searing shame to deepen and fester. “Please, I am ignorant in these matters. I ask...for your merciful guidance,” he says by way of relinquishing all control to her experienced hand.

“Very well,” she says, standing up and dragging him up with her. Dimitri clambers to his feet and manages to remove his tunic over his head, discarding it atop his fur mantle. But before he can disrobe further Rhea’s hands are already on him. Her fingertips trace the massive scar across his breast and he finds himself trembling once again. Her fingers, while they should be gentle, instead they dig in and rake across his skin, her nails rather long and nearly as sharp as claws.

“Dimitri...” she murmurs. “While physical intimacy is something that is not to be wantonly squandered. It too is a gift from the Goddess. You need not feel shame in this indulgence, as we are doing so by the goddess’ will.”

He swallows thickly and nods, tentatively placing his hands on her waist. While he understands, he knows that there is an obligation to reproduce, to continue the bloodlines of the goddess’ chosen, that thought does nothing to quell the rising bile in his throat. This desire of his, it is not at all connected to any desire for heirs or a legacy. In truth, the idea of offspring terrifies him. It was borne from something warmer, at least he hoped so. The raw instincts for conquest and domination still roiled, those feelings that he so often directed through the end of his lance. However, he clamps them down, looping his arms around her lower back and pulling Rhea closer into an embrace.

Rhea lets out a satisfied sound, moving her hands to his back. There, stronger than before, her claws dig in and Dimitri lets out a hiss. He can hear her making a series of sounds where her head is resting against his chest, but he cannot make out the words. At the moment, it is of little concern to him, as just this embrace alone is enough to make Dimitri feel like he might begin to weep.

Rhea’s hands then drag lower, along the contour of his spine to the waist of his pants. He balks, and her hands dig in. “Dimitri,” her voice comes out like a hiss. “You appear incredibly tense, please,” she steps back towards the bed, dragging him with her. “Come and lie down. And you can leave the rest to me.”

Dimitri stiffens, finding himself resisting out of some sort of deep instinctual fear. However, Rhea does not react to this resistance with compassion, instead she yanks him forward, dragging him off-balance with a strength that clearly rivals his own. Before he knew what was happening, Rhea had tossed him atop the bed, leaving him dazed and his heart pounding even further than before.

He lays there, feeling limp and paralysed, completely dumbstruck as whatever confusion and doubt he had disappeared along with the chemise once covering Rhea’s body. The moonlight hugs her form as she crawls onto the bed with him. She does not look at his face, her eyes and hands now focus on his pants. Taking off the final belt and stripping the last two pieces of clothing from his form.

Rhea’s eyes then fall upon his manhood. She looks dismissive, even disinterested. Something that is so incongruous with her actions that Dimitri can hardly absorb it. Rhea then props herself above him, her light hair seeming almost white in the moonlight. With one hand braced by his head, her other goes suddenly to grab his jaw. She pries open his mouth, causing him to grunt in surprise, but the rough treatment still causes his arousal to surge nonetheless. That cold gaze examines him, searching the points of his teeth, fingertips digging into the line of his jaw. Wether Rhea found what she was looking for, Dimitri cannot know. 

She sits back finally, resting her rear on his closed upper thighs, his erection standing straight, mere inches from her own arousal. He can feel the heat, the wetness as it seeps into his skin. Surely this must be enough to disperse the lingering chill deep within him. 

Her gaze then moves lower, seeming to be annoyed at how his arms remain limp at his sides. She grabs one hand and shoves it roughly against her breast. Dimitri is still too timid to do much else, his face only flushes pathetically but he manages to place his other hand on her waist.

Rhea then lets out a heavy breath, placing one hand on his shaft, while the other slides between her own legs. 

With just one flick of her fingers, it all suddenly becomes real. He lets out a strained moan that quickly narrows into a whimper. The times he has shamefully rutted into his own hand surely cannot compare, and yet he still feels more resistance threaten to overtake him.

“Oh, goddess—” he grimaces, his hands digging into her impossibly soft skin. “This is not—I can’t—”

“Speak, child,” Rhea says, her voice flat while her eyes fix on him again. “Dispense with your worries with me.”

Dimitri meets her gaze as tears start to fall unbidden from his eyes, sliding down his face and into his tangled hair. “This is not—I cannot possibly be worthy. Of you, of this—” he says as his throat starts to tighten. 

Rhea’s lips then upturn into something approaching a sneer, but far colder. “That is where you are right, Dimitri,” she says, her fingers wrapping securely around his cock, the sharp tip of her thumbnail digging into his foreskin. “You are not worthy. You are below me in every possible respect.”

Dimitri’s eyes go wide while the blood drains into his groin, and he can feel all of his reason begin to further drain away. “Rhea.”

“You are mere filth compared to one who has been gifted with the goddess’ divine purpose.”

“I cannot...I cannot do this,” he gasps. 

Her hand squeezes around him painfully, causing him to cry out. “If you cannot, then I will do it for you,” she snarls. “I have chosen to forgive your miserable condition for one reason alone, your loyalty. And so, prove it to me.”

Dimitri does not offer up any further resistance, her grip on him is absolute, and the pleasure that issues forth from her touch is all the more searing for it. Rhea regards him with a look no less than ravenous as her other hand curls between her legs. She draws herself closer and sets her dripping folds against him, now moving both hands to dig into his shoulders.

Dimitri’s hands fall limp to his sides once again, and she does not look at him. Her eyes stray from his as he feels her slide against his length, the head of his cock sliding effortlessly deeper once those depths are opened to him. And in an instant her hips crash downward and his vision goes white.

Rhea lets out a growl that must indicate her pleasure, although Dimitri can only hazard a guess. With every thrust of her hips and ever prick of her claws in his skin, Dimitri feels himself begin to float ever higher. She is beautiful, wreathed in moonlight, her figure being full and alluring as ever. The vision of her beauty clashes with the sound of her insatiable yowls; and the building ecstasy runs up against the incessant rhythm of her rut. 

Perhaps he is meant to answer her, to rise and meet her in some sort or reciprocation. His hips quiver and he jerks towards her, being encouraged by the softening of her harsh growls. When his own voice dissolves into jagged wails, he suddenly feels a gentle touch against his face.

“Dimitri,” she moans, her face a vision of everything he yearned for—a smile, welcoming, full of warmth, a soft bosom just beyond his reach. “Please, call my name.”

“Rhea— Lady Rhea!” He chokes out as he is now nearing his end.

“No—” she hisses, those eyes cooling once again. “My name, my true name. That my mother gave me!” Her walls clamp down tighter around him, causing Dimitri to wail once again. “My mother...she—” Rhea throws her head back, a wave of pleasure tearing through her body as her thrusting shifts into a fluid grind for those few moments. “Seiros— Call me, Seiros,” she says again through a sudden moan.

Dimitri can barely catch his breath, his hips shuddering and rutting desperately into her while his hands clamp down on her hips. There is no need for understanding as he feels himself swiftly lose control. “Seiros—” He forces out, “Seiros!” Her walls contract around him again in what he now sees is her second climax, but this time even stronger.

She seems satisfied, finally. Perhaps not satiated, but finished with him. Dimitri's head spins as her warmth leaves him, and her figure returns to being something bathed only in moonlight, away from his touch. She is speaking, but he cannot understand her words. His mind is clouded as his breathing shallows and he feels the chill settle in his bones. Perhaps he is unable to grasp what exactly she has taken from him. Or perhaps, he does not wish to. Eventually she returns to him, sitting on the bedside and her hand moves to rest in his hair.

"You did well, my child," she says.

Dimitri keeps his eyes closed, and imagines her face instead. He trembles, and he clings to her. Maybe now that he has performed his duty, she can tolerate his desperate cloying. Or perhaps she only thinks of how best she can use him next. For the moment, Dimitri pays that no mind, even as his body crashes down back to earth. Her hand is warm, and her voice soothing. As warm a comfort as he can hope for, and far more than he will ever deserve.


End file.
